


The Wind Beneath My Wings

by ClydeThistles



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Pick-Up Lines, F/F, Flying, Yennaia, take a chance on me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26446387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClydeThistles/pseuds/ClydeThistles
Summary: Air traffic controller Tissaia meets adventurer aviator Yennefer.
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 8
Kudos: 64





	The Wind Beneath My Wings

**Author's Note:**

> I have taken significant liberties with ATC radio communication and with how flying works - not a true-to-life depiction in any way!  
> Yennefer's character inspired by real-life aviator Tracey Curtis-Taylor who flew a biplane solo from Cape Town to Cairo.

Tissaia swipes her pass-card and takes the steps two at a time like she always does. There’s a lift but she figures using the stairs every day means she doesn’t have to go to the gym which can only be a good thing. She reaches the top only slightly out of breath and with a satisfying burn in her thighs, opens the door into the control room and sighs appreciatively. She sees this every day, but it never ceases to amaze her. Past the bank of screens, radars and transponders is the floor-to-ceiling atrium panels through which she can see the world spread out below her and the sky surrounding her on all sides. She always arrives early for her shift because once she gets down to business, she will have no time to spare for sightseeing. It’s early morning, still dark but the dawn is creeping along the eastern horizon streaking the dove grey with rose and amethyst. A clear morning, good visibility, and (she glances over at the windsock fluttering gently) a light North-North West wind. A good day for flying.

The night-shift signoff and gather their jackets and empty coffee cups,

“Alright Tissaia? Been quiet since the Dubai flight landed at 03:00. Looks like you’ve got a busy one though.”

Tissaia nods in agreement. She’s got two passenger jets due to take-off in just over an hour, a cargo plane landing soon after and multiple crafts crossing her airspace on their flightpaths to the bigger airport further west. Scanning her clipboard, she shakes her head in disapproval and sighs. She’d thought she might get lucky and miss this next entry, but she’s drawn the short straw and it’s scheduled during her shift. Some nutjob has been flying a Boeing-Stearman 75 biplane from Cape Town to Cairo and is now on their way home, due to land on Tissaia’s runway this morning. It’s bad enough that they’re flying something built before World War Two but the media frenzy around it means there’s going to be a swathe of reporters, sponsors and afficionados on the side-lines to cheer as the aviator adventurer lands. Few things make Tissaia more disgruntled than members of the public on her runway, even if they _have_ got clearance and been briefed within an inch of their lives. Still, Tissaia is a consummate professional who prides herself on diligence and forethought. So, she has studied the Stearman and its workings so she is familiar with it and any problems its pilot may encounter should they need her assistance. She hangs her hi-vis jacket on the back of her chair, straightens the lanyard round her neck and settles in front of her bank of screens, popping her headset on to check-in with ground control.

“Tower to ground, good morning.”

“Ground to tower, it is an excellent morning.”

Vanielle sounds husky and Tissaia smirks, “I’m assuming you mean _last night_ was excellent?”

“All I’m saying is it’s a good job I don’t have to climb those stairs today, I can hardly walk straight.”

“Vanielle! Anyone could be listening!”

“You’re the one who started this conversation on the radio. It’s too early for anyone else to be signed-on yet. What about you? Any luck with the ladies recently?”

Tissaia blushes and squirms uncomfortably, “You know I’m not looking for anything right now.”

“I know you _think_ you’re happy on your own, but everyone needs someone, Tissaia. Even if it’s just for a night.” There is the crackle that indicates someone else is joining their frequency but, to Tissaia’s horror, Vanielle continues, “It’s time to let go, it’s not always going to end in tears you know.”

Tissaia launches into the technical specifications for the cargo plane and confirms that ground are co-ordinating the trucks and forklifts, hoping that by the time their radio communication is over, anyone listening will have forgotten that Vanielle had broadcasted her personal life.

The next hour is non-stop, Tissaia directing and navigating, manoeuvring and guiding, multiple aircraft and vehicles and hundreds of lives passing through her hands. She has just found a moment to crick her neck and catch her breath when her transponder crackles and a warm female voice echoes in her headphones,

“Echo-Golf-Hotel-India Tower, this is Stearman Golf-Romeo-Two-Six requesting inbound.”

Tissaia notes the aircraft’s call-sign and asks her to keep flying rather than enter the traffic stream as the runway designated for the biplane is busy,

“Stearman Golf-Romeo-Two-Six, Tower roger, for traffic extend your downwind I’ll call your base.”

“Tower roger, extending downwind for Stearman Two-Six.”

When the ground clears Tissaia calls her, “Stearman Golf-Romeo-Two-Six, this is Tower, enter right traffic for runway.”

Her pilot acknowledges then asks, “Requesting full stop and taxi back.”

Tissaia glances at her screens and confirms there is no one else needing that runway any time soon and that ground have a bay ready for her to park in, “Cleared for option.”

Through the window, she spies the plane, tiny and fragile looking compared to the jets she usually sees. It floats beautifully though and (despite the havoc its pilot and her entourage are causing) Tissaia can’t help smiling as it drifts towards her. She sees it stutter before she hears the radio distress call,

“Mayday-mayday-mayday, Stearman Two-Six to Tower, engine failure, requesting alternative runway.”

Tissaia’s heart stops momentarily, the biplane is losing altitude fast and won’t make it to the runway she’s cleared. It’s heading right for a jet waiting to taxi. That’s if it even makes it to the airstrip rather than crashing into the fence and parked trucks.

“Stearman this is Tower, check your Mayday. Clearing you space now.”

Her hands fly over the controls, her voice calm but authoritative issuing instructions, moving the jet, putting the fire brigade and ambulances on standby, shifting any trucks she can, creating a big empty space so that the biplane has the best chance of making a landing. But she’s done her research… she knows it’s not going to land cleanly, not from that altitude. Something orange flutters in her line of vision and she sees the windsock change direction, flapping with more vigour than before. An idea forms in her mind – it’s crazy. But it might just work.

“Stearman this is Tower, still with me?”

“Roger, Tower. It’s getting bumpy but still here.”

“Stearman Two-Six, recommending drop and bank to left.”

“Are you fucking insane? I’m trying to keep height, not lose it! And left? I’m barely lined up with tarmac as it is!”

Tissaia frowns a little at the profanity and the drop in radio etiquette but now is not the time to be pernickety, “There’s a crosswind, if you can catch it, it might carry you and let you land cleaner.”

There is silence for a moment and Tissaia holds her breath. Air traffic control is the absolute authority unless an emergency develops in which case the pilot has the final say. She can make a recommendation but cannot force her pilot to comply. The radio crackles,

“You are a genius! I could _kiss_ you!”

Tissaia blushes (she will never hear the end of this from Vanielle) but manages to keep her voice steady, “Roger, Stearman. Cleared for option.”

The voice on the other end chuckles despite being in the middle of crash landing, “I’m going to take that as a ‘yes’.”

Tissaia sits white-knucled as the biplane glides diagonally past her window, kept afloat just long enough by the crosswind to screech onto the tarmac rather than nosedive. Smoke billows from its tyres and it judders to a halt, sitting a little lopsided as though drunk. A tall figure in overalls and an aviator hat hops onto the wing and down to the ground, pumping her fist in the air in triumph. The crowds cheer, she is dragged in front of cameras to talk, presented with a gaudy over-sized bouquet and Tissaia pretends it is vitally important that she continues to study the woman through her binoculars rather than admitting she is smitten. Her pilot pulls off her hat and goggles, unwinding the scarf round her neck, and shakes out black curls that Tissaia wants to plunge her hands into and grip tightly. She is interrupted from her daydreaming by Vanielle’s voice in her ears,

“That is one batshit crazy lady.”

And with a rather stupid dreamy smile on her face, Tissaia replies, “Certifiably insane.”

Vanielle crows, “You didn’t say it like you wanted to throttle her for ruining your schedule. You _like_ her!”

“Tower to ground, shut up.”

When her shift ends and she drops her mug off in the break room, Tissaia sees the reel of the biplane landing and the pilot’s interview is playing on the news. Her stomach does a little flip-flop because the woman is even more stunning that she’d realised. And then it does a full-blown backflip because her pilot is waiting for her at the door,

“They said your shift was over soon and let me wait to meet you. I wanted to say thank you in person. You’re a lifesaver. Literally.”

“You’re welcome. I was just doing my job. And you flew it, it takes quite some skill to pull off that sort of landing.”

The woman holds out a hand, “I'm Yennefer, by the way. What should I call you?"

Tissaia clasps her hand and shakes it, "Other than 'Tower', you mean?"

Yennefer grins provocatively, "I can call you that if that's your thing."

Tissaia arches her eyebrows, "We had better start with 'Tissaia', don't you think?"

It has been a long time since she dared to reach out, to jump and hope that she doesn’t hit the ground. But something tells her this one is going to make her fly.


End file.
